


A Work in Progress

by prototyping



Category: Tales of Vesperia, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, fanzine: after school heroes!, genfic, well i just created a new relationship tag, writers being nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: They say there’s a special kind of trust involved when a writer seeks feedback. ...Or if they don’t say that, they should. [Estelle, Mikleo.]My contribution to the After School Heroes! Fanzine. (Links inside!)





	A Work in Progress

**Author's Note:**

> This work was done for the After School Heroes! Fanzine on tumblr. The zine is all Tales with a school AU theme consisting of both fanfic and fanart, and all proceeds go to the Kids In Need Foundation (KINF.org).
> 
> If you’re interested, you can get a downloadable copy (ONLY through January 31st, 2019!!) for only $10 [here at the zine's store!](https://ashtaleszine.bigcartel.com/) You can also learn more about the zine [here on tumblr](http://ashtaleszine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Mikleo!”

Estelle rose halfway from her seat with a wave, trying to catch his eye as he entered. Her bright hair stuck out enough that it was probably unnecessary, but she waited until he nodded in recognition before settling back into her booth.

While he moved to the counter, she picked up her tea to warm her hands and glanced out the café window. Another rainy autumn day. Chilly and a bit miserable, but perfect reading and writing weather.

“Hey,” Mikleo greeted a couple minutes later. He slid in across from her, his usually neat hair slightly disheveled from the humidity and his glasses speckled with water. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all! Only a few minutes.” This was probably where most people would open the meeting with some smalltalk, but Estelle pushed a stack of printed paper towards him with a bright smile. “I really liked it! I appreciate the footnotes, too. It made Googling the things I didn’t know a lot easier.”

“It wasn’t excessive? I’ve been trying to decide whether it’s best to use direct references or just keep everything in an appendix.”

“Well… most of your readers would probably be history buffs,” she reasoned. “And if you’re going for a textbook format, an appendix would be more organized.”

“That’s what I was thinking, but I’m not sure if that’s the angle I want to take.” He tapped the tabletop thoughtfully with the pen between his fingers. “But I’m planning to use this format for my senior project, too, so treating it more like a report might be better in that case.”

Estelle blinked at him over the rim of her cup. “I thought you were a junior?”

“I am. But I want to get a head start since I’m working on this personal project, anyway. Professor Sage already accepted my proposal, so it can’t hurt.”

Her smile was impressed. “So that’s the life of a double-major, hm?”

“Well, not all of us.” Mikleo sounded slightly weary as he said that, but then he indicated the papers. “So, anything big?”

“No, the grammar was fantastic. I made a couple suggestions here and there, but those are debatable.”

“I’m sure they’re better than any suggestions GoogleDocs comes up with,” he assured her. They shared a wry smile.

“I took your word for it when it came to most of the information,” she went on, “but if you need me to double-check any of your sources…”

“I’ve got someone else fact-checking, so don’t worry about it.” He thumbed through the stack briefly, a cursory glance over the few handwritten marks she’d made.

“Your writing comes off very… personal, somehow,” she mused as he tucked the papers into his bag. “It didn’t feel like I was reading a report.”

“You think so?”

“Mm. I mean that in a good way,” she added quickly. “I think you sound passionate.”

Mikleo turned back to her and set another, thinner stack of paper on the table. He looked pleased by her comment. “That’s a relief. I’m not trying to lecture, after all; I figure there are enough dry textbooks in the world already.”

“What are you trying to do?” Estelle wondered. “I understand the premise—comparing and contrasting different eras—but if it’s not meant to teach, then…”

His smile faded to a thoughtful look as he crossed his arms. Given his writing style and dedication to his schooling—a double major in history and language, a minor in English, and reportedly the GPA to back it up—she wasn’t surprised to see him take even that casual question seriously.

“It’s kind of a personal challenge,” he answered after a moment. “I grew up surrounded by a lot of history, and somewhere along the line I got into the habit of drawing connections between things, just to see if I could. I’ve always thought the best stories are those that don’t spoon-feed you all the details, so maybe that has something to do with it.” His pensive expression broke as he looked at her again. “But you could say I just enjoy searching for subtleties. Something as widespread and controversial as world history has plenty to offer.”

Estelle’s silence and stare were intrigued—and then she broke into a wide smile. “That’s amazing!”

He looked taken aback by the earnest remark. “It is?”

“Of course! I’ve always enjoyed history, too, but… Not like you do. Being able to immerse yourself like that in something you enjoy… I don’t think many people have that opportunity. You’re lucky.”

Mikleo looked away again, this time to stare at the opposite wall, and she wondered if she’d said something weird. “It’s… Well… Thanks,” he managed finally, awkwardly. “But it’s—I mean, you do the same thing, don’t you? You seem really into fiction.”

Taking that as her cue, Estelle reached across for the manuscript he’d presented. “I think it’s fun,” she replied, “and… I think I’m a little like you in that regard: I like to challenge myself creatively. But I see writing kids’ books as… more of a side hobby, I think. Not something I’d dedicate myself to full-time.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You said you want to be a teacher, right? Writing’s a good skill to keep sharp. The two arguably go hand-in-hand, especially since you enjoy it.”

Estelle gave a warm hum. Raised in a no-nonsense household with a full schedule to match for as long as she could remember, spending a large portion of her time on something because she enjoyed it, not necessarily because it benefited her in any particularly large way, was a new kind of freedom. Even her career path had only received approval because her father assumed she would teach at the same high-end private academy she’d attended as a child.

Granted, a simple hobby probably wasn’t the type of freedom most students would think of, but she knew her background wasn’t exactly commonplace. 

Realizing she’d fallen silent, Estelle snapped back to reality with another bright and easy smile. “So, honest opinion—what did you think?”

“Like I said before, I’m not exactly a fantasy connoisseur. I haven’t read a kid’s book in a long time, either, but I can vouch that the writing’s solid. It sounded like you understand that age group’s interests, too; it didn’t come off patronizing at all.”

Estelle tilted her head thoughtfully. “I didn’t even think of that,” she admitted. “Being patronizing, that is.”

“I’m not sure how much of a problem it actually is, but you avoided it. It kept my interest, anyway. And I ran it past my brother since he’s probably more fitting. He thought it was great.”

She beamed, but her curiosity quickly got the better of her. “Oh! You have a little brother?”

“By three months.” He sounded proud of that fact—the age difference, not the brother. “But when it comes to literature, I’d say he’s as close as you can get to an elementary schooler without actually consulting an elementary schooler.” He sipped his coffee again, but she caught a smirk that said he was amused by his own joke.

Three months...? Estelle wondered.

“Anyway,” he continued, “he made some notes, too, if that’s okay. But I’d take his opinion on diction with a grain of salt.”

“That’s fine! The more eyes, the better,” she assured him as she flipped through the stack, noting the two distinct sets of handwriting. “I agree it’s way better than GoogleDocs. At least actual people won’t flag ‘dragon’ as a typo and suggest ‘drag queen’ as a correction—”

A snorting sound startled her and she looked up to see Mikleo spluttering coffee down his chin and back into his cup. He quickly waved off her concerned expression, shaking his head as he coughed into his sleeve. “Fine—I’m fine—sorry—” He accepted the napkins she passed over and cleared his throat into those instead.

Half a minute later he recovered, although his face was still flushed. He was torn between denying he’d found anything funny in that remark and respecting her feelings in case she’d intentionally meant it as a joke, but Estelle momentarily spared him as she inquired, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah—” His voice was hoarse. “I didn’t… uh…”

“I’m sorry. I could probably write a book on the struggles of trying to write a book with technology,” she joked with an apologetic chuckle.

Mikleo took the subject change gladly, sipping—a bit warily—at his drink again. “Seriously.”

For the next half hour they went back and forth, flipping through their papers and trading comments and suggestions. When there was finally a lull in the conversation, Mikleo voiced a thought he’d had before now.

“Is there something else you’d prefer writing? Even if you don’t want to commit to children’s books, that seems like a lot of talent to just leave idle.”

“Maybe,” Estelle admitted slowly. “I’ve thought about fantasy-romance, but… I don’t know.”

His eyebrows rose inquisitively. “Yeah? Have you written anything for it before?”

Estelle waved a dismissive hand, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “Oh—no—well, yes, but… it was a long time ago, so it… it’s not worth mentioning,” she finished quickly.

This was the first time he’d seen her look uneasy to any degree. He almost dropped it, but she looked more embarrassed than actually uncomfortable, so he inquired with a knowing smile, “...You regret it that much, huh?”

“Let’s… just say I’d burn it if I could.”

“Fair enough. That’s probably true of anyone pursuing a craft.”

She looked prepared to ask if that included him, but a well-timed ping of his phone dodged the question for him. Mikleo silenced the alarm and told her, “Sorry, I need to get going. Trade on Thursday, like usual?”

“Sure! Same time and place.”

Estelle watched him sweep his things into his bag with quick but organized precision. Not until he’d stood up and opened his mouth for a farewell did she finally, impulsively say what was on her mind—or start to, anyway.

“Mikleo—” She hesitated, uncertain, even when he paused and waited.

“Yeah?”

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to get into, after all. She considered the two of them friends, but the most casual kind. “I, um…” She shook her head with another professional smile. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

Either he was even more observant than she’d thought, or he wasn’t in that much of a rush. He shifted his weight from his heels as he pressed curiously, “Are you sure?”

It struck her as a very Flynn thing to do, right down to the attentive, patient tilt of his head. Maybe that helped. “I just… want to say thanks, again. For doing this.”

He blinked, but nodded. “Sure. But you’re helping me, too, so—”

“It’s not just that. I mean it’s… nice. To have someone take this little hobby of mine seriously.” She shrugged a shoulder sheepishly, her smile turning a little wry. “I’m just used to everything being so… stringent and necessary, I guess. I can be open with my friends about the things I like, of course, but… you’re the first person who’s made me feel like I can really do something with this, you know? Maybe it won’t go anywhere in the end, but… it’s nice,” she repeated, “knowing I can try.”

Maybe she’d said too much. Maybe she’d strayed too far into the matter of her personal life, however indirectly. Maybe she would end up weirding him out and distancing him from her, as had happened with other casual friends when stringent necessity became too much of a gap and a strain.

Estelle wasn’t sure what to expect when she looked up at him again, but the sympathetic smile took her by surprise. Mikleo didn’t strike her as the type to casually show warmth—not to anyone he wasn’t close to, anyway.

“I think I know what you mean,” he replied thoughtfully. “And you’re welcome. I’m just glad to know good writing talent isn’t going to waste.”

She colored a little, but it was with gratitude. “That makes two of us.”


End file.
